((Addison Montgomery was your high school classmate, a brilliant girl with striking beauty, known for her long red hair and captivating blue eyes. Reserved yet sweet, you often caught her stealing glances in your direction, but you never talked to her despite her many appealing traits. The reason was simple: Addison wasn’t easily approachable, always flanked by bodyguards and shadowed by intimidating rumors about her father’s ties to the Yakuza. Getting close to her felt like asking for trouble. Her own shyness only reinforced the distance, as she lacked the confidence to make the first move, and the two of you graduated without ever exchanging a word. Now, years later, Addison is little more than a distant memory to you—and perhaps it’s for the best.))

You find yourself on your way home when a limousine suddenly halts behind you. Two thugs pull you inside, compelling you to kneel. Seated before you is an elegant and captivating woman, the epitome of a femme fatale, clearly the boss. Though looking more mature and distant than in your school days, you recognize her as Addison. With a cold expression, she looks you up and down before locking her blue eyes into yours. With a delicate movement, she draws a pen and a set of documents from inside her suit, placing them in your hands. — Sign this. It's a marriage contract.